


wait for me to come home

by mermaidenisaac



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/M, Hurt, Romance, erica is done with his shit, isaac is broody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 20:45:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7860490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mermaidenisaac/pseuds/mermaidenisaac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the accident, Isaac didn’t talk much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wait for me to come home

After the accident, Isaac didn’t talk much.

He spent most of his time in his room, burying himself in books, pretending he could be the protagonist of some great literature, that he could be strong and brave like the men and women he read about.

His room was adjacent to Erica’s in the loft. She always knew when he left his room because she could hear his breathing, huffy and strangled, as he tried to half trudge half drag his body to the bathroom or to the kitchen. He refused to use his wheelchair. It was taking him longer to heal this time and no one knew why. Erica guessed that that was the hardest part for him: not knowing if things would get better.

He never asked for help, and refused it altogether when he was offered it. She used to sneak into his room at night and comfort him through his nightmares, but now all she could do was listen through the wall as he cried himself back to sleep.

~*~*~*~

There were some good moments. 

Erica came home one day to find him standing at the base of the stairs, grinning widely in that cheesy way she found so endearing. She almost dropped the bags of groceries she was carrying. The last time she saw him smile like that was when she told him she loved him on his birthday last year, right before he said it back. 

“I made it,” he’d said elatedly. “I made it all the way down the stairs. By myself. I fucking did it!” He pumped his fist in the air like he was the anti-hero of a John Hughes film. Erica ran to him and wrapped her arms around his waist and he laughed softly into her blond hair. 

Things seemed to be getting better. Day by day, he was getting stronger, more mobile, less bed-ridden. He was even talking to the pack again, coming down for movie nights, speaking up at meetings, cheering on Scott and Stiles during lacrosse practice.

It all came crashing down that day at the track. Finstock thought it might be a good idea for Isaac to try running again. Erica was on the bleachers, white-knuckling her bookbag and watching with warranted trepidation as Scott helped Isaac to his feet. Isaac had started out slowly, then he tried speed-walking. He picked up some speed and started jogging, and everyone was cheering him on. He was on his way back when Erica saw him fold over. It didn’t even register in her brain that he’d fallen until the cheers died down and Derek raced to his side, and all she heard for days after that was the echo of Isaac’s strangled cry of pain and utter defeat.

~*~*~*~

He pretty much gave up after that.

The progress that Erica was so proud of was wasted in his bed. Sometimes, she’d walk by his room and see him laying down, staring at the ceiling with this hauntingly empty look in his glassy eyes. If it weren’t for the steady rise and fall of his chest, he could’ve been mistaken for dead. He didn’t even resemble the boy Erica fell in love with.

She’d finally had enough of his moping. She didn’t bother knocking as she slipped noiselessly into his room a month later and perched on his desk chair. Maybe Isaac thought she would leave just as quietly if he ignored her irritated presence, but eventually, he realized he was wrong.

“What do you want?” Isaac asked boredly. He was laying down with his hands folded behind his head. 

“I want you to stop feeling sorry for yourself,” she replied calmly.

He stayed silent for an endless moment. And then finally, he sighed, a resigned breath that sounded like he wanted everything to just _stop_.

“You should go,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to be here. You can… you deserve better.”

“Don’t. Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“The only truth here is that you’re not gonna get better by laying here, day after day, stewing in your own self-pity.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “I tried, remember? You saw me, you were there when I fell. And I actually thought I was getting better.”

“You were getting better! Just because you fall doesn’t mean you’re not getting better. And I still believe in you. I don’t care how much you push me away or put yourself down. I’m not giving up on you. None of us are.” Erica’s voice cracked with the emotion she’d held back for so long, and she waited for Isaac to say something, anything. But her words were hitting a brick wall. She came forward and kneeled in front of Isaac’s mattress and gently untangled his hand and clasped it with her own, relieved when he didn’t recoil. He continued to stare blankly into the air. “I don’t know why you’re not healing as fast as you usually do, but maybe this one’s a mental battle. You’re so much more than this. You’re so strong and so brave and I know you can do this. I just… I just need you to know it, too. I am _begging_ you, please try to hear me... Isaac?”

He didn’t move a muscle. Kneeling before him, pleading with him, she didn’t feel it was too much to ask that he’d say something back, contend with her even. Combative Isaac would’ve been preferable to this lifeless shell of his former self. To her dismay, he said nothing.

And Erica finally realized that she couldn’t save someone who didn’t want to be saved. Crestfallen, she let go of his hand.

“Fine. Do whatever you want, but I can’t watch you waste your life away.”

She choked back a sob and slammed his door on the way out.

~*~*~*~

In the weeks that followed, Erica avoided the loft when she could. She drifted in and and out for meetings, but that was it. Understandably, she didn’t want to see the slowly decaying remnants of someone she once called the love of her life.

The first time she really came back was for Boyd’s birthday party. He’d also taken it pretty hard when Isaac went mute. He was his best friend. Ever the socialite, Lydia took it upon herself to organize something grandiose and elaborate for his birthday. And maybe she told everyone to dress fancy for a black tie party because she wanted a fun distraction from watching her friends mope around because they still blamed themselves for Isaac’s accident. Maybe Scott and his savior complex would finally shut up with the constant “if I’d just gotten there faster” and “I shouldn’t have let Isaac go off alone after that chimera.” 

It had been a rough few months, and a long time since everyone could get together without discussing different tactical advantages for their next battle-everyone except Isaac. He didn’t come down for the party, which did not go unnoticed by Erica, who was already slightly buzzed from Stiles’s special cocktail that he'd self-titled “wolf juice.” The disconcerting mixture of giddiness and sadness was a welcomed distraction from the throbbing numbness that had inhabited her. In her intoxication, she tried to soak up the happiness of her friends around her, chattering and giggling and drunkenly singing “Happy Birthday” to Boyd. When Lydia started serving the cake, Erica realized she couldn’t enjoy any of it knowing Isaac was upstairs by himself. She was a firm believer that everyone should have cake, even the most stubborn, angstiest of werewolves.

“Hey babe, could I actually get two-” “Here.” Lydia had already prepared two plates with napkins and forks and handed them to Erica. “And tell him he owes Boyd an apology.”

Erica nodded gratefully. She somehow stumbled her way up the stairs with two servings of dessert in her hands and nudged Isaac’s door open with her elbow. She walked in to find him standing in front of his mirror in blue slacks and a blazer, fidgeting with a badly tangled necktie.

“You’re standing.” Isaac jumped at Erica’s voice, turning to her with startled eyes.

“Oh, hey. Yeah. I wanted to-I thought I should get dressed, come down. For Boyd.”

Erica gingerly placed the food on Isaac’s desk before moving to stand in front of him.

“Isaac, you’re _standing_.” She gaped incredulously. “You can stand?”

Isaac sheepishly rubbed the back of his head and looked down. “Yeah. I thought about what you said, and you were right. I was just feeling sorry for myself. I finally decided to take my head out of my ass and do something, ya know? I’ve been practicing, walking and stuff. It’s not much, I know-”

“It’s everything,” she cut him off resolutely. “Really, this is amazing. I’m so proud of you!”

Isaac beamed, and then something flashed in his eyes, and he frowned sadly. “Listen… I’m sorry. You were just trying to help me, and I shut you out. I’m so sorry for everything.”

Erica bit back the enormous smile tugging at her booze-soaked lips. “It’s fine, hon. You were hurting. Oh, but you should definitely apologize to Boyd. Lydia might kill you otherwise, and I might help.”

Isaac laughed. “I’ll definitely do that. If I could just tie this goddamn thing…” Isaac tugged frustratedly at the offensive piece of fabric around his neck.

Erica took the tie from him and pulled it taut between her fingers. “Here, let me.” She hesitantly stepped closer into his space. “I have to, um-” Isaac ducked his head, allowing her to wrangle the fabric around his neck. In his descent, he brushed the side of his cheek against her hair. She shuddered when his warm breath tickled her exposed neck. Erica had forgotten what it was like to be this close to Isaac, to be surrounded by nothing but Isaac and he still smelled the same and she’d downed four shots of Stiles’s drink and she wasn’t designed to cope with so much fog in her brain, blurring her vision and buckling her knees. 

“Erica,” Isaac murmured gently. 

“Hm?”

“You look really beautiful.” He twisted the material of her chiffon lilac dress between his fingers, letting one long digit slowly trail against her exposed rib cage where the garment slitted open.

Erica simultaneously shivered and melted at his touch. She hurriedly pulled the tie through the loop, adjusted it one final time, and made to move away. She didn’t want the opportunity to ruin the first good moment they’d had in months. “There, all done! Let’s eat cake.” Before she could step away, Isaac clasped her hand and reeled her back in, pulling her close. He delicately traced his fingers along the back of her knuckles, drawing lazy circles into her skin. He hummed lowly and Erica closed her eyes. 

“You can hear the music too, right?” he whispered. The gentle guitar strumming of “Photograph” drifted into her brain. She nodded affirmatively. “I love this song. Will you dance with me? You know, so I can practice,” he said with mock seriousness. Isaac held his hand open for her to take.

Erica chuckled and fitted her hand into his palm. “Alright, Lahey. I guess you could use the practice-even on two good legs.” 

Isaac rolled his eyes good-naturedly. When she timidly placed her hand on his shoulder, he raised a skeptical eyebrow at the very un-Erica conservative gesture before grabbing both her wrists and entwining her arms around his neck. He locked his own securely around her waist, pulling her in close. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of his cologne and rested her forehead against his sturdy chest as he swayed them in rhythm with the music. His cheek felt warm against hers as they slow-danced in his bedroom.

_Loving can hurt, loving can hurt sometimes._


End file.
